Broh Week 2012
by Triggering-Your-Senses
Summary: Here are the prompts from when I participated in Broh Week 2012; instead of writing them as separate fics, I sort of all incorporated them around a central plot line: the progression of Iroh and Bolin's relationship from its start to the point when they tell their friends.
1. Comfort

**June 30th – Broh Week – Comfort**

**Title**: Within the Shantytown

**Fandom**: Legend of Korra

**Chronology**: Skeletons in the Closet

**Pairing**: Broh, of course!

**Rating**: K+

**Summary**: Before having his arm healed by Korra and hatching a plan to thwart Amon, General Iroh II rambles around the shantytown, slightly intoxicated by the alcohol Gommu gave him to ease the pain. He encounters Bolin and they share a moment that is the precursor to the inception of their formal relationship.

**Word Count**: 1091

* * *

General Iroh II wandered aimlessly through the shantytown; on a second circumspection, it was actually quite charming. _Charming, indeed_…he sighed. He didn't know if he actually thought that or if it was just the alcohol in his system. He hadn't had very much to drink…just one glass' worth of ash-brandy, his favorite––who would have thought that Gommu had a stash? ("That should numb the pain for now," he said, pouring out some of the ever-steaming liquid into the bottle's cap, "Now take a drink!") The shabbiness of the whole place was softened around the edges by the glow and heat of the ash-brandy; it felt warmer, lighter, more like home. He was sure–

Iroh was never a man for wishful thinking, and the fact that he was almost practicing it at that very moment made him realize the true scope of how the alcohol was affecting him. Although he hadn't had much to drink, perhaps it was the alcohol's mixture with the pain from his arm that caused all this. Maybe it just showed his true propensity to suspend his disposition when given an excuse to…he settled on the former; it was slightly more comforting to his befuddled mind.

He tried to get his thoughts in check, tried to put the situation in perspective. He was a United Forces General who was hurt to an unknown degree; he had almost drowned and was practically stranded in a shantytown. Born into riches, he could hardly bear the thought of it, and momentarily snapped his thoughts into check. Where he was now…it was the exact thing he should have abhorred; the illegal epitome of the opposite of what he was raised up to be. And yet, somehow he felt at home? He shook his head. It was probably just the alcohol getting to him.

He wasn't sure which he was more displeased with: the current situation, or his helplessness in his current situation. Ever since he was a child, he hated being wounded. It made him feel useless, like he could contribute nothing; all of the things on top of sheer helplessness. He knew that wasn't true; his grandfather had told him it wasn't countless times, yet his thoughts gave way to the childish compulsion.

He should have been livid with himself: had he not failed to anticipate the Equalists' method of attack? Had he not failed in protecting himself, his fleet, his men? But he wasn't. All of the anger stewing in his gut, about to erupt had been quelled in the commute into the sewers by a pair of gentle, kind eyes. They were soft, like new spring dirt; fertile, ready to grow…but durable, like the metal and stone palaces of his own homeland. And to go with all of those things, they were an almost ethereal shade of green: pastel and bright at the same time…he feared he sought solace in those eyes a few too many times on the way into the pipes.

With that thought in mind, he turned steeply around a cluster of tents. Part of him scolded himself for his adoration of those eyes; another wanted to seek them out again. _Ah, the duality of tipsiness_… That was sounded like something his grandfather would say, or rather, quote, since his dictation of such phrases always seemed a little contrived; imitational, but nostalgic. His eyes would rise above Iroh's head and to the back of the room, or out a window, glazing over slightly–– Iroh stopped, scuffing a heel on the ground in a half-formed step. He quickly assumed perfect posture and stance, correcting any negligence that may have occurred due to his slight inebriation.

They eyes greeted him gaily, but their owner seemed a little perturbed by his arrival. Not angered, just startled. There he sat, on the floor, his hands resting between the ears of a fire ferret. Iroh couldn't help but smile a little. He greeted him, his sense mostly regained. The earthbender reciprocated the gesture, scratching his ferret behind the ears whilst doing so. The creature let out a mixture between a purr, a squeak and a sigh. Iroh didn't quite know what to do next, so he sat down, his aforementioned sense present mostly, but not entirely. They sat in silence.

"I…like this place." Bolin said tentatively, talking to Iroh, but still making eye contact with his ferret.

"I do, as well–" Bolin nervously continued his previous thought, accidentally interrupting Iroh.

"I mean–oh, sorry." He looked a little more flustered than before. Iroh raised his hand in a gesture of calmness and dismissed it.

"It's alright. Continue," Bolin took a breath, and resumed his thought:

"I mean, you'd expect it to be smelly, with like, the homeless people and all, but it isn't. It smells…_good_ here." He exhaled, and it was clear his thought was over.

"Well," Iroh furrowed his brow, "Are these people really homeless?" After he posed his question, he proceeded to answer it: "Despite the illegality of it all, aren't they less homeless than the majority of Republic City, bender and non-bender alike? In the traditional sense of the word _home_, at least." He paused, then realized he had nothing left to say. Bolin looked a bit stunned, his eyebrows in a state of perpetual lifting. Perhaps it wasn't the statement at all…he could have just been frazzled by the fact that Republic City had just been raided. Countless citizens' lives changed indefinitely.

"I guess you're right."

Then, something strange happened. Just as Iroh reached out to rub the top of the earthbender's ferret's head, Bolin did the same, and their hands overlapped: his over Bolin's. Bolin's hand tensed up in an attempt to withdraw, but he seemed to hesitate to do so; Iroh's hand didn't move at all. Bolin slowly brought his eyes up from his ferret, on which they had been centered for the entirety of their short-lived conversation and met Iroh's gaze. And it felt, in that moment, that they knew each other, like they understood each other: like they were one. At least, that's how it felt for Iroh.

Gommu arrived shortly, saying that he had been searching for them and that the Avatar desired their council (except all of that was said much less eloquently). Their bodies next touched on Naga's back, upon the decision that he, Bolin and Asami would embark as a team, and the feeling was reawakened. Well, not so much reawakened as reheightened; it had been there even after the physical contact ceased, begging for it to resume.


	2. Protection

**July 31st – Broh Week – Protection**

**Title: **Infinite

**Fandom:** Legend of Korra

**Chronology:** After Endgame

**Pairing:** Broh, of course!

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** The Avatar and her friends have triumphed over Amon, and Republic City is quick to celebrate it in gratitude, and hopefully some sort of consolation for their previous skepticism. They stage a week full of festivals to celebrate the "young heroes", as they refer to them. Everyday of this week is dedicated to one member or group of members of the team. It is day one of the festival, meant to honor Pabu and Naga, the animals who indeed are young heroes themselves. Although Bolin feels compelled to rejoice in his ferret's victory over Amon, he can't help but feel a bit shaken up by all of the events that occurred in which he came so close to death. Iroh is there to help him overcome his pain, even if momentarily.

**Word Count**: 1694

* * *

Bolin sat on the floor of his bedroom, his legs crossed, his hands trying desperately to occupy themselves without Pabu. His calves made an almost suitable substitute, but in the end, it just felt strange that they weren't hairy enough. Well, they were hairy, as calves go, but definitely not as ferrets do. His own ferret was _busy_. He was a local celebrity, now. If he wasn't mistaken, he was actually doing a press conference at that very moment. Every child in Republic City knew his name; heck, grown people too! There were even plush toys of him now, authorized and not. They were selling like his favorite dumplings did on Monday mornings––quickly. And Pabu deserved all that, too. Bolin figured that he, out of anybody, knew Pabu the best, as his loyal friend and partner in crime. Or rather, justice. And, being studied in the personality of that quirky creature, he knew that he deserved all of the acclaim that he received.

He had helped save himself and Bolin from total destitution on the streets, as well as Mako's and the other members of the new Team Avatar's lives several times. And though Pabu wouldn't toot his own horn (did he even have lips?) Bolin knew that he was a pivotal cog in the defeat of Amon. A morale booster, a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on: whatever he was needed to be. And that's what these festivals were about, right? The people who helped? And in Bolin's definition of the word "person", it didn't matter if they were encapsulated in human skin or fire-ferret fur.

The evening of Amon's defeat, the city burst into rapture. It was a party that lasted all night; all the members of Team Avatar got free amenities. Then the dawn of the next day came, and, well…the people got organized. They called this week the "Young Heroes' Festival Week", with each day honoring a different "young hero" or group of them who aided in Amon's defeat. Today, Sunday, the inaugural day of the festival week, was to honor the animals who helped, namely, Naga and Pabu. Bolin thought that Pabu deserved his own day, but, hey, there were only seven days in the week. Even with Pabu and Naga sharing, all of Tenzin and Pemma's children had to share the day after them and he and Mako had to double up on the penultimate day of the week. He was just glad that they remembered to thank the animals, in the first place. Perhaps it was they who deserved the thanks most of all.

He looked down at his hands, now mostly idle in his lap. They were shaking. He shook his head. He thought they had stopped. He thought thinking distracting thoughts about how much his ferret deserved the thanks of Republic City would make it stop. He couldn't help it. Even amidst all of the festivities, he felt terrible. He felt his forehead. It wasn't warm; he wasn't sick. It was definitely what he thought it was: what had been clawing at the back of his mind since the beginning of the new Team Avatar. He had to stop this shaking; he had to put a smile on his face and go to the festival and honor his beloved friends––

He heard the entry hatch of he and Mako's apartment brace with someone's weight. Who was trying to get in? _Okay, okay, calm down. _Façade on: suspicions off. _That's the way to do it_. He rose slowly.

"Who is it?" he called. That was a safe question. His tone was even stable when he said it. He was better at the façade business than he thought.

"It's me!" a man's voice called. It surely wasn't Mako's…

"Who's _me_?" Bolin called back after a few seconds. Was it someone he knew? A fan? He and Mako had never really thought of upping this place's security.

"_Me_ as in Iroh." the voice replied quickly, knocking on the wooden hatch. At this, Bolin's heart began to dance about in his ribcage. He only had the slightest inkling why. At that moment, he justified his heart's rapid change of pace with nervousness for the festival. Excitedly, he unlocked and pulled open the hatch, his hands still shaking slightly. Now, why he enjoyed Iroh's company so much was still a mystery to him. He reasoned that they were friends because they had spent so much time together heading to the Equalist airstrip to sabotage it, and later tied together in a jail cell. He extrapolated that it was so easy for them to become friends because of his propensity to like firebenders. Mako, his big brother, and the person whom he looked up to most in his life was one, Korra, a close friend and the only person he ever considered dating was one, too and Pabu was sort of one, being a _fire_-ferret and all. He just…felt comfortable around fire…he tried desperately not to think of his parents.

"H–hello." Iroh said, climbing through the hatch. "Still your house, huh?"

"Yup." Bolin replied, looking around at the sparse décor. Should he have been embarrassed for Iroh to see this? No, Mako would tell him to just own it and be proud of this. He and Mako had worked ceaselessly to acquire this furniture and keep the apartment; it was 100% theirs. Well, except for the fact that they were renting it, but that was beside the point. They hadn't really had the chance to "redecorate" the place yet. All the time they would've spent doing that was spent denying offers for "better living." There was no way he'd leave this place for good. At least, not anytime soon. Ever since it had been restored, he had made a vow.

"Good. It has…character." Iroh said, pulling up a chair and sitting down." There was a small pause.

"Yeah. So, um, why are you here again?" Bolin asked timidly.

"To pick you up, of course. Your brother said you may have still been sleeping and that your ferret would be quite disappointed if you missed his 'big day'."

"No…I'm not sleeping. I wouldn't miss his 'big day' for the world…" The truth was that he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the previous night, an impossible occurrence for him. He was kept awake by his thoughts, surmises… Iroh's eyes widened.

"Are you––alright?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah––yeah, I'm fine; why do you ask?" Bolin was quick to counter.

"You're a little…pale and you have dark circles under your eyes." And with that comment, it seemed as if Bolin's quick wit had disappeared. There was a long bout of silence. "I'm glad I'm not the only one…" Iroh muttered to himself.

"W–what?" Bolin managed,

"You can't sleep because you've been thinking about it, right? How many times you've almost died?" Bolin's eyes widened.

"You, too?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes," Iroh started, "And the worst thing is when you try to count. The truth is, the number's––"

"––infinite." Bolin said to himself softly. He looked up at Iroh, who was silent and his ashen face almost erupted into a blush.

"Does it make you feel better that you're not the only one?" Iroh posed the question before getting up.

"A little, I guess…" Bolin lied. He didn't like to think that he was so transparent. He kind of wanted Iroh to go away, now…

"Alright, then. I'll give you a couple of minutes to collect your thoughts, but know that your ferret needs you in a little more than half an hour," Iroh said, preparing to lift himself through the hatch.

"His name's Pabu–" Bolin nervously blurted out before stopping himself. Why did he just say that? He felt that gave away his fears the most. Iroh's back was to him now, but he slowly turned around, his eyes concerned. Bolin couldn't meet his gaze, he was too embarrassed. He closed is eyes as they misted over. God, he wasn't crying, was he? _No, don't cry_… He heard a series of small steps and felt a pair of arms wrap around him.

"I–" Iroh's voice seemed a tad weaker than before, "I want you to know that you're safe here. You're _safe_, with me," the words came out muffled when he heard them through Iroh's arms, but he heard them all the same. Bolin couldn't help but let out a sob then. All of this had been boiling over for too long, waiting to blow. He expected Iroh to be appalled at his weakness, to leave, but it created a quite opposite affect. Those arms just gripped him tighter until the tears stopped. Then, the arms let him go.

Bolin hesitantly opened his eyes. Iroh was still there, standing an arm's length away from him. He closed his eyes again. He probably looked like a mess. He clenched his eyes shut, like that could make himself disappear or something. The next thing he felt was a pair of soft lips on his cheek. His eyes shot open and his heart began to gyrate again. His breathing became slower, less frantic.

"I–"

"When you're feeling a little better, come find me, and we can talk about it. Alright?" Iroh patted his shoulder before turning around and descending through the hatch. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of a flush in his cheeks… Iroh shut the hatch behind him.

Bolin stood there, dumbstruck for a few minutes. Had he…? Had Iroh…? He wanted to feel offended; violated or something, but he didn't. He felt comforted. Consoled. Safe. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid into a sitting position. He was certain he was going to speak to Iroh later, but of what, he didn't know. _It_ wasn't a very specific thing to talk about. The fear of death or the fact that Iroh had kissed him on the cheek…and that he had liked it? Or that moment they had shared in the shantytown? He looked at the clock. It was getting close to the ceremony. He had to get ready.

That night, after the festival, he slept dreamlessly.


	3. Devotion

**August 1st – Broh Week – Devotion**

**Title: **The "_It_"s

**Fandom:** Legend of Korra

**Chronology:** After Endgame

**Pairing:** Broh, of course!

**Rating:** K

**Summary:** On the second day of the "Young Heroes Festival Week", Bolin decides to confront Iroh about what has transpired already and points to them being more than just friends.

******Word Count**: 1699

* * *

General Iroh II stood placidly in the midst of the party like a stone amongst a flowing river; he was pushed around plenty, but he didn't voluntarily move his body. It was only his eyes and mouth which moved, most often to scan the room or thank a civilian for their kind treatment of him. Out of the "young heroes", he was probably the least known. Even Naga and Pabu were better known than himself. At least, in the context of Amon's defeat. Most of Republic City knew him as the diligent, upstanding general who achieved such high rank at an extremely young age. Well, he hoped people would know him in that context. They probably just knew him as the ex-fire-lord's grandson who happened to be a United Forces General. They probably thought he earned it because of legacy or something. But, apparently, he did help with the defeat of Amon. He wouldn't lie; he had probably contributed the least. It wasn't that he was lazy, it was just that he had arrived the latest out of all of the "young heroes"; even later than Tenzin and Pemma's youngest son. Iroh sighed. Yet, he still got in the festival.

After tonight's festivities ended and the banners bearing the faces of Tenzin and Pemma's children were taken down from all over the streets, banners hold his own face and namesake would rise, and they would celebrate him. He wasn't entirely sure that he deserved it, but he was thankful all the same. He thanked a civilian who came to offer him a homemade dumpling, popping it into his mouth gingerly and complimenting his prowess as a chef. The man almost fainted; a few of his friends had to carry him away. Iroh's eyes scanned the room again: countless faces that he didn't know, Korra and Mako talking in a corner, Asami signing autographs, Naga giving rides to children who wanted them…there were Tenzin and Pemma's kids, chaperoned by their parents, all decked head-to-toe in flowers bestowed by the citizens; Tenzin and Pemma not excluded. Even their youngest son seemed to encrusted in these flowers. It was pretty endearing. Tenzin and Pemma were so proud of their children, and they felt it.

His gaze wandered again. The face he sought desperately wasn't in his frame of vision. It appeared as if it wasn't in the room at all; Iroh was now completely sure of it. Those kind eyes would have made a difference in his own mentality, his mood, his feelings towards the entire event. That's how he finally concluded that the person who he was looking for wasn't present in the room; not by sight, but by his emotions. He sighed again. He was never really a man for parties. He felt enveloped by the tumult, and not in a good way. He glanced around, looking for an escape route. What section of the city was he in, anyway? The event started, much to Tenzin's dismay, on Air Temple Island, but was quickly relocated to one of the city's larger banquet halls. After more civilities were exchanged there, the new Team Avatar was dragged from restaurant to restaurant along with the kids. He couldn't really gauge how much distance he had actually traveled from their original location.

It seemed as if there were civilians from every direction on the compass rose who were looking for Team Avatar. And there probably were, he realized. Regardless of them, he had long grown tired of this celebration. He wanted to be there to show his gratitude to his friends, but he just felt as if he was stealing their attention. Suddenly, his eyes fixed on a spot in the room. A door, or rather, an arch that no one was entering or exiting. He figured that he might as well try; even if that room was simply less crowded than this room, it would be a reprieve much needed.

Slowly, he made his way to the arch, pretending to drift as not to arouse any suspicion. After a few minutes, he was able to stroll right in. As he entered, he exhaled in relief. He was on a balcony; a perfectly empty balcony. He could see why: it was open to the sky, so some fresh air was circulating, but in front of him and on either side there were brick walls. And he was okay with that; as long as he was able to be alone here. He leant on the balcony railing, There were about two inches of empty space until the brick wall. He looked down through the miniscule crack: many feet below was the ground, bustling with the festival. He was sure the people were talking loudly, but it was muffled to a muted murmur by the distance and the base of the balcony itself.

"Um, hello," he heard a familiar voice. Even without turning around, he knew its owner.

"Hello," he said, folding his hands together and turning himself. "You're late."

"I'm––sorry," his friend started, putting a hand behind his head, "You see, Pabu is a little, well, _hung over_ from last night…I woke up this morning to him vomiting. I didn't want to leave him by himself; I wanted to––I wanted to make sure he was okay." Iroh nodded.

"That's very noble of you," Though he wouldn't admit it, he was actually glad that Bolin had given him a reason. He was beginning to think that he was avoiding him…they didn't talk at all at Pabu and Naga's festival. "I'm glad to see you," he said, smiling wryly at him.

"I'm glad to see you, too," Bolin smiled back. He looked less tired than when he last saw him; there was more color in his face. And he mentioned waking up, implying that he had slept, which was definitely an improvement, even if fitful. Bolin wore a dark emerald tunic with a wide grey sash and black slacks. "I've been…wanting to talking to you…wanting to talk about _it_." Iroh raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Which _it_?" he asked.

"Any, really," Bolin responded. "All of them, preferably." He chuckled nervously.

"I'll leave the order to you," Iroh said, moving slightly closer to Bolin.

"I've been thinking about it––I want to know that I can really trust you." Bolin visibly braced himself.

"W–what?" Iroh asked, amused. "Okay." he consented after a few seconds.

"Okay?" Bolin asked, slightly dumbstruck. "You don't even care what it is?"

"I have perfect confidence that your guidelines are completely sensible." Iroh said dryly.

"Well, then," Bolin managed, "Um, thanks…" There was a long pause. "I want you to tell me about one of the times you almost died." he blurted out.

"Alright," Iroh said, "I will."

"The scariest time. The time you thought you'd actually…do it." Bolin clarified, as if almost expecting Iroh to double back and deny his previous acceptance.

"It was when I was thrown off the ship," Iroh said with perfect composure. "Being taught to brave the seas my entire life, I couldn't help but feel as if they had finally gotten the better of me." He pursed his lips slightly. "When I woke up, I could hardly believe I was alive." Bolin kept a steady gaze on him, and Iroh returned it.

"For me––it was when we were searching for Korra in the Equalist base––we were fleeing the place on a tram system, and all of a sudden," he stopped, taking in a breath, "All of a sudden, from both sides we see Equalists on trams riding towards us. We were cornered like rat-rabbits. Chief Beifong––she created an earth ramp and saved us, but––" he stopped again. After a few moments, it seemed as if he didn't want to resume.

"But what?" Iroh asked as delicately as possible. He slowly placed a hand on Bolin's shoulder.  
"But I knew that if it was just me––I couldn't have done that, and, I would've died, but, more importantly, Mako would've…" His eyes misted over, like the time they were alone in his apartment.

"You don't have to continue." Iroh said, about to wrap his arms around him, like he did in that instance.

"I'm fine––I'm fine," Bolin, said, weakly pushing him away. Though his attempts were feeble, Iroh let them separate the two of them, knowing that it was best to have Bolin as comforted as possible. A few minutes passed in silence. Bolin had regained his composure and was readying himself to speak; Iroh knew because he was biting his lip. "I––you kissed me," he said softly.

"Yes; yes I did," he confessed.

"Why?" Bolin broke his gaze and was now staring at the ground.

"Because I like you; isn't that what you do when you like someone?"

"And you touched my hand," he continued after a moment.  
"That was when I first realized I liked you––" Bolin interrupted him like he had the most important thing in the world to say:

"You know, I've tried this whole dating thing out before, and, it just hasn't worked for me."

"I'm not promising that it'll work."

"Are you promising anything at all?"

"Well, one thing."  
"What?"

"That, though things may not work out, if they do…God, this sounds terrible." he shook his head.

"Continue," Bolin said, smiling slightly.

"If they do, I'll be the most devoted person to ever enter a relationship." There was a pause; the longest one in the entirety of their conversation. "I guess we've covered all of the _it_s." he said. "So, do you want to try it out?" Bolin licked his lips.

"Sure," he said, smiling. Iroh offered his hand to Bolin, grinning.

"It's an honor," he said, bowing slightly. "Now, may I have the honor of your held hand?" Bolin consented. He scrunched up his forehead a few seconds later. "What?" he asked.

"You can't tell Mako." he said decidedly.

"That's fine." Iroh stated.

"We can't tell anyone." Bolin said even more decidedly.

"For now," Iroh added on the end.

"For now." Bolin repeated. He exhaled loudly; he was satisfied.

And at that point, they just talked. Not of _it_s, but of things, fleeting things: whatever happened to enter their minds.


	4. Rumors

**August 2nd– Broh Week – Rumors**

**Title: **A Pretty Couple

**Fandom:** Legend of Korra

**Chronology:** After Endgame

**Pairing:** Broh, of course!

**Rating:** K

**Summary:** For Bolin, it's not the rumors (however scarce they are) about his and Iroh's relationship that offend him most, but the ones that place Iroh with someone else.

**Word Count**: 1858

* * *

Bolin strolled down the crowded street. Republic City seemed to be aglow with preparation for tonight's edition of the festival week. Street artists were bent over their canvases, hastily yet skillfully rendering pictures of Asami. They were selling at a manic rate; the artists, even when conglomerated, could barely produce a supply vast enough to meet the growing demand. Sweat poured from their brows, their cheeks were flushed with the stress, but on their faces there were grins of triumph: _we have triumphed over Amon and now we will triumph over the slow economy_, they seemed to be soundlessly saying, and who was he to contradict them?

He tossed some coins at one of them, indicating with his hands to share the wealth. He didn't want to purchase a painting of Asami, however beautifully rendered it was; what he wanted to do was to contribute to the people of Republic City. They had had a tough month, and defeating Amon didn't instantly amend for it. Many people were still scared to come out into the streets, and that slowed business down for people whose jobs took place there: namely, street vendors. _Everyone's gotta make a living somehow._ He almost strained himself for a moment, thinking of his, but soon realized: _Pro-Bending, of course, Pro-Bending._ He self-consciously flexed his arm muscles. He hadn't trained since before his last Pro-Bending match. That is, unless one counts battling Equalists as training. He wouldn't lie, it was strenuous, it just wasn't consistent, though. He'd have to resume training as soon as the festivals were over. Gosh, he didn't even know when the new tournament would begin. Or if they'd resume the old one! Could Korra still play on their team? Would any team _dare_ to face them?

He grinned to himself. He couldn't wait. He passed rows and rows or street vendors selling Asami-related material. It was sort of unfair. They hadn't done this for Iroh… Would they do it for himself and Mako? He knew Asami was a pretty lady, but do the pretty men ever get pictures of them painted? The answer was no. He chuckled. Even with Amon out of the picture, such injustice remained in Republic City! He knew of one pretty fellow who deserved all of the attentions Asami got, but didn't get them. And by pretty he meant ridiculously handsome and wonderful…and still pretty. This man, practically shunned by the public, when one compared his festival to Asami's _pre-_festival…he sighed.

He knew he was exaggerating; the people were just as raucous and rambunctious and happy at Iroh's festival as they would be at any other festival, it was just that Bolin sort of felt that the people celebrated, but they didn't always know what they were celebrating. And whom. His character, his morals, his heroism, his personality…_him._

On the night of Tenzin's children's festival, they had talked into the early morning. Just about anything: what they liked (I: Tea. B: Noodles. I: …me, too.), what they didn't like (B: Tahno. I: Who?) or whatever popped into their heads (B: Is this a roofless room or a balcony? I: I'd say a balcony, unless you count it as a roofless room with a consistent two inch hole in the floor and no bottom structure _and _a railing. B: …point taken.). He eventually felt compelled to go and attend to his ailing (hung over) ferret, but even then, after they exchanged goodbyes, Iroh decided to come and help, or at least keep him company. _He was very gentlemanly about it, though_. And by that, he meant that he resolved on coming, and instead of just saying so, asked politely and insisted. Bolin blushed a little at the remembrance.

Iroh ran out to pick up noodles while he had stayed in the apartment, keeping Pabu on his side and well hydrated. They didn't eat them until Pabu fell asleep, though; he would've been jealous that he couldn't keep them down. They waited until he fell asleep, and by that time, they were both starving and the noodles were cold. He was about to begin lamenting about Mako not being there to heat them up when Iroh did just that and 'saved the day.' He was very honorable about it, too. "Cold noodles are a slimy misfortune that no one should have to endure," he had said solemnly, before cracking into laughter. He stayed until right before sunrise, when they saw Mako and Korra entering the building below. That was when Iroh abruptly left. But that was the way things had to be, for now; they had both agreed on it. Bolin slept well again and when he awoke, immediately dressed and departed, Pabu on his shoulder, rested and completely sober. He hoped it was the last time he would ever try ash-brandy; the poor thing had been coughing up sparks more than 24 hours later! But, that time had passed.

He met Iroh at the festival and they had spent the night talking again. Well, that and trying to find a restaurant deserted enough so that no toasts were made or suspicions raised upon their arrival together. One that they could possibly, _maybe_, hold hands under the table in. They eventually found one on the edge of town after Iroh had made the obligatory rounds. Pabu was being just a little protective at first, but warmed up to him after being fed profusely by the both of them. Bolin sighed. He wouldn't deny that that night was probably the best one of his entire life. He didn't fell cumbersome at all; he felt like he was really wanted, or even needed, which was a pretty rare thing for him.

A large crowd ahead of him came into focus. They were clambering around a street stall, practically throwing their money at the vendor, who was grinning like a child. After they successfully managed to give the guy their money, he would hand them moderately thick piles of paper. He didn't realize what kind of paper they were until he came closer. _The Republic Informant_ read the heading of the booth. It was a newly popular tabloid paper in the city. Its rise to grandeur was caused by the voracity with which they documented news about Amon from all perspectives in three daily editions. They did it from his rise to his fall and that had won the people's trust enough for them to be able to print ridiculous falsities and get away with it. They had called Pabu _Babo_ for God's sake! He wondered what "news" they were printing today, and how exaggerated it was. Luckily, a man walked his way, eagerly unfolding the paper and beginning to read. Bolin followed about ten paces behind him, barely able to catch part of the front page's headline: _Asami Sato–_ Asami Sato _something_. He didn't catch that last part.

He turned around and made his way back to the booth. He wasn't going to buy one of those papers, even if it meant stimulating Republic City's economy. Those things were trash. Really, though. At the end of the day, that's all they were. He caught a glance over a woman's shoulder. She was already delving into the front-page article. _Asami Sato Engaged–_ Engaged? Engaged to whom? He jogged a little to catch up to the woman. _Asami Sato Engaged to General Iroh II_. His stopped jogging abruptly. That couldn't be true! Correction: it wasn't true. It wasn't true, right? He looked over a man's shoulder just to confirm that he had read the headline correctly. He had. He shook his head. They really were running out of news to print now that Amon had fallen. He had forgotten how quickly the people of Republic City became engrossed in things, no matter how nonsensical they were. He began to walk back to his apartment. This was pretty funny actually. Really funny. Really. Fucking. Funny. He could have laughed. He tried to. He couldn't.

As he walked home, he passed all of the street artists he had passed on the walk into town, and it seemed as if the "news" was traveling like the tides did, except instead of ebbing and flowing, it just flowed. Asami was no longer alone in these portraits. She was with a tall handsome man, a tall handsome man whom he called his own. He ignored them, not tossing them any more money; he wouldn't contribute to such useless drivel.

"So," Bolin said through a mouthful of dumpling, "Did you hear that Asami's engaged?" Iroh's eyebrows rose, but he waited until he had chewed and swallowed his own dumpling before responding.

"Engaged to whom?" he asked, obviously interested, but not clambering for the information. He took up another dumpling in his chopsticks and placed it into his mouth.

"You, apparently." Bolin said, not portraying any expression on his face. Iroh coughed into his dumpling. He swallowed it and took a sip of tea.

"That's laughable," he said after a moment.

"It really is." he agreed. Iroh took his hand, and they shared a moment. They were in Bolin and Mako's apartment, and Mako was out with Korra; they didn't have to hide here. "You make a pretty couple," he muttered.

"What?" Iroh asked. He had heard him perfectly well; he was just trying to confirm what he heard.

"I said you make a pretty couple." Bolin said, taking his hand from Iroh's and placing it into his own lap.

"And we two don't?" Iroh countered.

"Well, isn't that why we're hiding?" Bolin's eyes were now set on his lap.  
"I beg to differ." Iroh said, placing down his chopsticks on his napkin.

"And what's your reason?" Bolin asked earnestly.

"We're hiding so the public doesn't make a scene out of all this." Bolin imagined _the Republic Informant_ with their faces on the front page. Then, all of a sudden, his body was replaced with Asami's. In a wedding dress.

"But what does it help if they're making a scene of something else?"

"If it's untrue, which it is, then the public will forget about it in a few days. It's better for these scenes to be based on fiction."

"How come?" he asked.

"Because if they aren't, it begins to get hard to decipher what is true and what isn't, rather than being able to know that everything is false." Iroh picked up his chopsticks and ate another dumpling. "We're waiting because we agreed that we're not ready. Are you ready yet?"

"…no…" Bolin admitted.

"Exactly."

"…are you?" he asked after a little while.

"I'll be ready when you are, Bo. You just need to not force yourself into anything––" At that moment, Pabu hopped on to the table, and the conversation ended. Not in a cold, stony way, but in a semi-satisfied way for both parties: Iroh was satisfied that he got his point across and Bolin was glad he was able to absorb it. He was just a little ashamed that he had even doubted him for a moment.

That night, Asami dispelled the rumor, saying she was perfectly single and satisfied being just that.


	5. Charming

**August 3rd – Broh Week – Charming**

**Title: **Prince Freaking Charming

**Fandom:** Legend of Korra

**Chronology:** After Endgame

**Pairing:** Broh, of course!

**Rating:** K

**Summary:** To surprise Bolin on their third date, Iroh brings him back to the place where he first experienced romantic feelings for him.

**The Full Story**: X | X | X | X

**Word Count**: 1441

* * *

Iroh smirked to himself, thinking of all the civilians who wouldn't even wonder where the two of them were. Tonight had been Bolin and Mako's festival, and though the citizens of Republic City had appreciated Bolin immensely, Mako's sheer happiness, despite his brooding personality won the attention of the masses immediately. He supposed that they just wanted to take advantage of it while it lasted. He chuckled.

"What?" a voice behind him asked. "Are we there yet?"

"Nothing," Iroh said, squeezing Bolin's hand, "And we left five minutes ago."

"Oh." He said, fiddling with his blindfold. "I had hoped this thing had messed with my sense of the passage of time or something." Iroh laughed.

"I assure you, standard cotton doesn't skew your perception of the passage of time." They turned into a narrow, empty street. They were getting closer and closer to the bay. "And shush; we're almost there." Iroh shook the picnic basket in his hand and held it a little further behind him. One of the first things he had learned about Bolin in their courtship was the fact that he had the keenest nostrils in town, and if he himself could smell the bay air, Bolin surely could. His sense of smell was probably heightened by the imposed blindness, too. He had bought spicy noodles for that very reason. Well, that and a craving for spicy noodles. He hoped the food distracted him enough for the moment.

"I'm hungry, 'Roh!" Bolin whined, stomping on the ground playfully.

"I know, Bo; me too. But you've just got to hang in there. We're really close, I promise." The bay came into view; so did a flight of stairs that they'd have to descend. "Stairs coming up," he said, "Be careful."

"If I sprain my ankle or something, you're playing nursemaid!" Bolin observed. He had a little trouble finding the first step and knowing the location of the last step, but otherwise, he was fine. The mouth of a large pipe, pouring out water, engulfed them.

"It's wet!" Bolin yelled out.

"Astute observation." Iroh responded, his voice echoing slightly. He expected to hear Bolin grumble at that moment, but he didn't speak at all. After about a minute, Iroh turned his head slightly to see a huge grin on his face. "So you've realized, I assume?"

"Nope. I just have a sinking suspicion." Bolin said through his smile. Iroh smirked triumphantly and continued on. "And by sinking I mean sinking _into_ the sewers," he added, and Iroh's smile disappeared, just to be replaced with another one of pride in Bolin's nasal observation. "You're nuts If you think that spicy noodles dampen the smell of sewage."

"I tried," Iroh conceded, "But I just cannot outwit the master." He received a squeeze on his hand at that.

"It's the effort that counts." They approached the shantytown where they had shared their first non-platonic moment a few minutes later. "You're so romantic." Bolin muttered. "Prince. Freaking. Charming." Iroh blushed slightly. He was glad Bolin's blindfold was still on; if it wasn't, he knew he would have never been able to live that one down. "Can I take this thing off?"

"Not just yet," Iroh said, placing down the picnic basket. They were at the edge of town, the backs of tents and shacks present, but not much else. There was, however, a familiar smell that he could tell his boyfriend was indulging in. "I need to set this up."

"Pshhh––no you don't––come on, Iroh––" He was cut off by the sound of a burst of fire and crackling twigs.

"Done." Iroh observed. Bolin reached up slowly, but ripped off his blindfold with an eager voracity, in both definitions of the word. He saw, in front of him, a small, newly ignited fire on which their dinners were heating. At a safe distance from the fire, to his left, was a picnic blanket on which lay preparations for their meal, an empty basket, a bouquet of fire lilies and of course, Iroh. He sat up, grinning. "What do you think?"

"I like it," Bolin said. Iroh patted a spot next to him and he sat down in it. "I love it." The fire reawakened the food's scents. "It's…great. Thank you."

"Anytime." Iroh responded, taking their meals off of the fire and offering Bolin his. "I figured it would be a nice change of pace from the chaos of the festivals." Bolin smiled and accepted his meal. He set it down in his lap.

"You're right," Bolin said, picking up his chopsticks. "Can I–"

"Of course," Iroh said, "Go ahead." He picked up his chopsticks. They both began to eat. After swallowing his first bite, he spoke again. So, how does it feel to be the most celebrated man of the day?"

"You mean the _second_ most celebrated man of the day," Bolin said, smirking. What he said wasn't scornful, Iroh knew. He could hear the pride in his voice when he talked about Mako. He was so glad that he was "coming out of his shell." He understood Bolin's mentality to an extent in his veneration of his brother: _he put me first and now I will do the same for him_.

"Well, how does it feel to be the second most celebrated man of the day?"

"Well, you know; you had your day of the festival, too." Iroh nodded. "It feels nice."

"Well, you should know that there are about five thousand pantsless individuals roaming Republic City, now," Iroh continued, mock alarm in his voice.

"And why would that be?" Bolin inquired.

"You charmed their pants right off." Iroh explained.

"Oh, really? Only five thousand? Bolin chuckled and took another bite of his noodles. "I'm beginning to question your opinion of me, sir!

"I mean well, you know that." Iroh replied, sighing happily.

"I know, I know…" Bolin put down his chopsticks. "But at least ten thousand next time. Okay?"

"You've got yourself a deal." They ate in silence for a moment. Iroh was about to continue the conversation when they saw a figure approaching; it was Gommu, gesticulating profusely.

"Ah, young lovers! And what do I owe the pleasure of your being here to?"

Bolin's eyes shifted to Iroh as he spoke. _How does he know?_ they seemed to ask. Iroh was just about to inquire on that very topic when Gommu began talking again. It was obvious that he had read Bolin's glance. "Oh, please! I knew it from the moment I saw you here! Two grown men, eating noodles! What else could it be but love?"

"It could just be noodles," Bolin observed. "Noodles are good."

"But it's not _just noodles_, is it?" And at that, Bolin blushed a deep red. "Never wrong, never wrong…" Gommu began to mutter incoherently and wandered away.

"If it's that obvious, it'd be best to tell _the Republic Informant_ ourselves," Bolin joked, chuckling nervously.

"Only when you're ready." Iroh said, holding his hand out and having it taken quickly.

"Iroh, why did you bring me here?" Bolin asked quietly after a small pause.

"You wanted to be somewhere quiet and secluded, and…you like this place. You told me when we first really met."

"Do you like this place?" he asked.

"Yes, I do." Iroh responded. "Would you expect me not to?"

"Well, I always had this feeling that it wasn't up to your standards."

"My standards?" Iroh asked, amused but slightly discombobulated.

"Well, you had a wealthy upbringing, didn't you?" Bolin seemed a bit tentative in saying this.

"Bo," he started, "You won't know my standards until you sleep in a bunker meant for ten, clean men with seventy-eight smelly and injured ones."

"I'm sorry…" he was quick to apologize.

"There's no need to be," he replied. "These are the questions that need to be asked if we want to know one another better." There was a pause.

"So, you like this place?"

"Yes, I do. I do recall finding it charming. And…I'll always hold it in a special place in my heart.

"And why would that be?"

"Because I met you here." There was silence. Both of their faces slowly began to get closer to the other's. Then they met. Sparks flew. They simultaneously pulled away a few seconds later.

"Iroh–" he seemed keen on saying something.

"Yes?"

"I think I'll be ready soon; to tell the world," he looked at the ground, "Just not now."

"I'm glad," Iroh said, "But if you were to change your mind, I'll still be here."

"That's good to know." Bolin said. "But I'm already sure of what I've said." He leant back in for another kiss.


	6. Oblivious

**August 4th – Broh Week – Oblivious**

**Title: Bromance**

**Fandom:** Legend of Korra

**Chronology:** After Endgame

**Pairing:** Broh, of course!

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** Bolin is becoming more ready with each passing day to reveal to his friends his relationship with Iroh, but their blindness to it thus far has caused him to consider some questions he never even thought about before.

**Word Count**: 1300

* * *

_The Republic Informant_ shifted couplings in the new Team Avatar almost daily now. The festivals had been over for a month, ending with a bang on Korra's; they needed something to cover. According to them, at one point, Asami and Bolin had dated, Asami and Iroh had dated and Korra and Iroh had dated. Not once were Bolin and Iroh's names mentioned in the same headline. _It's like they're too dumb to even consider the possibility of same-sex relationships_, Bolin thought. It held true in other couplings as well; they had gone on repeatedly about all of the male-female "relationships" in the team, but not once were Korra and Asami's names mentioned together, or he and Iroh's. Or Iroh and Mako, for that matter. He discounted himself and Mako for obvious reasons, cringing at the thought. The public's incognizance was fine with him. Though he was getting readier and readier to tell the world with each passing day, he wasn't quite there yet. It was scary, having your personal life scrutinized, even if you did happen to be heterosexual.

Thankfully, like _the Republic Informant_, his friends had remained completely unsuspicious of his and Iroh's relationship. Even Mako, who Bolin could never hide anything from, even if he worked up the gall to try to, couldn't tell, with all his receptivity. He had dismissed their seeing one another twice a day to train as normal, and their excursions after as, how did he put it? Ah, yes: a bromance. They trained for a total of four hours every day, in the morning and afternoon. This upcoming Pro-Bending season was going to rock. And, for Iroh, the United Forces were always in season. He had taken an extended shore leave, much to Bolin's delight. Now he was all his for more than four hours everyday. Korra and Asami had taken to calling the two of them "the Bros", which totally didn't make sense, he thought, since Mako and himself were actually brothers, yet they weren't called that.

And yet, Gommu had seen through their barrier of communication immediately. This amazed him the most. All he had to do was take one look at them, and he had known that they had deep affectionate feelings for one another. He had called it love, but Bolin wouldn't go so far as to call it that, just yet. Not to dismiss the topic completely, though, since they obviously had something going on that was working, and he had absolutely no intention of messing with it. Gommu had said that he knew that he and Iroh were "in love" just by seeing the two of them eating noodles together. That disconcerted Bolin perhaps the most of all. He loved eating; it was one of his favorite things to do and now he couldn't do it in public with Iroh without the fear of being noticed. They always tried to eat alone; they didn't want any unwanted attention before Bolin was ready, but it was a very large precaution, indeed. _Damn, Gommu, should be hired for his skills._ He knew that that would defeat the purpose of Gommu's being _away_ from Republic City, but he felt it all the same. And, hey, maybe after the fall of Amon has settled with the people and the council formally spoke of bender to non-bender equality, Republic City would be a good place for people like Gommu.

It was a humid and sunny afternoon when Bolin and Iroh began to train for what felt like the thousandth time (in a good way). They had settled into a schedule: ten minute warm-up, five minute stretch, one hour spar, ten minute cool-down and five minute stretch. Then, of course, came the kissing. It all sort of fell into place like that. They figured, on their first day, being too tired to train for the full two hours which they rented out the training room in the arena, they might as well be doing something productive. And, yes, kissing was productive. It was a stress and anxiety reliever; after they worked all of the tension out of their bodies, it sort of just happened. It was during one of those afternoon post-sparring kissing sessions they were involved in at that moment. So involved, in fact, that they didn't hear a knock on the door. Well, Bolin did, but a moment too late to inform Iroh. The door was already swinging on its hinges by the time he realized.

"––and take that!" he exclaimed, assuming earthbending stance and throwing Iroh across the room with a pile of rubble. Iroh's confused, slightly agitated expression disappeared when he saw the person who had entered. Bolin turned around. "Hey Mako," he said, beginning to take off his elbow pads.

"Hi; I was just coming down to see if you were in the mood to train." He saw that Mako was in his sparring uniform.

"No can do; didn't we talk about signing up for hours of just us?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah–I figured I wouldn't infringe on you two too much if I just came around this time."

"Sorry," he started, "We were just finishing up. Come earlier next time, will you?" Bolin took off his shin pads. "Gosh, I feel gross. Gonna take a shower. See ya!" he rushed out of the room.

Barely two hours later, he was sitting on the ground in the outskirts of the shantytown, thinking about what had transpired. Their close encounter had made him wonder many things. What if he had noticed too late? What if Mako had caught them? What would he say? Would he accept them? Would he tell the others? Would they accept them? He had heard Mako say a lot of things on the streets, and a lot of things when it was just the two of them. This raised another question: where could he draw the line between Mako on the streets and his Mako? Was there one? He sighed. The counterproductive nature of it all dawned on him, but he couldn't seem to stop conjecturing; hoping that maybe, if he came up with enough questions, he would start finding answers.

"I was hoping I'd find you here," he heard a voice behind him. He knew who's; it was Iroh's. He sat down next to him.

"Hi," he murmured.

"Hi," Iroh repeated. "That was a close call back there,"

"Don't I know," Bolin muttered.

"I just want to see if you're okay. You left in a hurry; Mako almost thought that you were angry at him." Bolin couldn't bring himself to respond, as this brought up a whole other slew of questions: had he given it away with his nervousness? Was Mako gonna be angry–? "Are you okay?"

"Yeah––I'm fine," he said. After a small pause, he whispered, "That was really scary."

"I know, Bo, it was for me, too," Iroh wrapped his arm around him. "You really saved the day back there, just so you know," Bolin blushed, but he didn't smile.

"Thanks." They just sat there for awhile. Suddenly, everything snapped into place for him. "I think––" he cut himself off, descending into deeper thought.

"What do you think?" Iroh asked.

"I think we need to tell the gang before we make a wrong move and get caught. It'd be much better that they all heard it from us," he blurted out.

"I think that's very wise," Iroh responded, tightening his grip on Bolin a little.

"And––we shouldn't hide from the world anymore." Bolin said. "As soon as we tell the gang, we're going out, and we're going to have lunch together. Just the two of us. In public. Okay?"

"I told you that I'd be ready as soon as you were," Iroh consented. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I am."


	7. Truth

**August 5th – Broh Week – Doubt/Truth**

**Title: **A Little Scrutiny

**Fandom:** Legend of Korra

**Chronology:** After Endgame

**Pairing:** Broh, of course!

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** Iroh and Bolin decide to share their relationship with their friends and later, the world.

**Word Count**: 1121

* * *

Iroh held Bolin's hand tightly; it was all he could ever hope to do to try to subdue his boyfriend's nervousness. He could feel Bolin's hand shake in his; his teeth were even chattering! The huge oak door loomed above them imposingly like an unfortunate fate, or Amon himself. He didn't want to force Bolin into something he didn't want to do. He braced himself.

"You do realize you can turn back now," Iroh started.

"How?" Bolin asked. "We've already told them that we needed to talk to them; it's too late–"

"It's not too late until we walk through that door; we can always come up with an excuse–" Bolin sighed loudly. It seemed at first like a sigh of relief, and for that moment, Iroh felt it too. Just as the slight disappointment set in, he saw Bolin prepare himself to speak.

"No–we said now and we're going to do it now–" he started firmly.

"Not if you're not ready–" Iroh interjected.

"But I am!" Bolin exclaimed. "I'm so ready to not have to hide anymore. I'm just…scared," the strength of his tone gradually deteriorated.

"Are you sure?"

"Yup."

"Absolutely sure?"

"Yup."

"Well then," Iroh said, "I guess all I have to do is get you not to be scared." Bolin looked a little confused. Iroh let go of his hand and placed both of his own on Bolin's shoulders, looking into his eyes the same way that Bolin had looked into his when they first met, "No matter what happens in there, I'll be there for you. Do you understand?" Bolin's cheeks got a little red.

"Yes," he said. He got on the tips of his toes and placed his mouth on Iroh's lightly before descending again. "Just so you know, the same applies to you," he said, reaching up and squeezing Iroh's hand before opening the door.

Just as they should have been, their friends were inside, talking quietly amongst themselves. All of their eyes shifted up at the advent of Bolin and Iroh. Bolin came in first and Iroh sat to the right of him.

"Hi, guys," Korra began, as it was in her nature to lead, "What's up?" she looked around.

"Nothing much," Bolin said, "And you?"

"No, I mean, what's up with this?" Korra asked, tapping her knee absentmindedly. Next to her sat Mako and next to him Asami, Pabu curled up in her lap.

"What?" Iroh asked.

"Well, all this…_formality_." Asami interjected. They had been asked to meet at the apartment Iroh was staying in, and to all come alone. It would attract the least attention from the public that way.

"Well," Bolin said, "What we should really begin with is the fact that we didn't go into this meaning to hide it from anybody."  
"Well, we did; didn't we?" Iroh commented.

"Yes, yes we did," Bolin corrected himself, blushing a little. "What I really meant was that we didn't mean to hurt anybody's feelings by hiding it." He paused. Iroh resumed where he left off.

"Any and all hiding we did was for our own convenience, only if temporarily." Bolin smiled at him, thankful he extrapolated on his thought, saying something he never would have managed to. They were pulled back down from the clouds by Mako's voice.

"So, what's this big revelation?" he asked. And, when taken out of context, Iroh thought that it could be taken that the whole gang already knew, But Mako's tone, as well as the previous events of the morning, made him believe differently. He was about to tell them when Bolin's chimed in, reaching to his right and grabbing Iroh's hand.

"We've been dating," he said, and not even nervously. He had a flush in his cheeks, but his voice was confident.

"For about a month and a week, now." Iroh added a moment later. Just a nanosecond before the whole room was engulfed in incomprehension. At first, they just started at them blankly.

"Is this some obscure, Fire Nation holiday?" Korra asked, looking to Mako.

"Don't look at me; I was born here." He murmured. She looked to Iroh and Bolin next, who shook their heads. They kept their hands tight together, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.

Korra just started at them, dumbfounded. Asami looked as if she was ready to faint. Surprisingly, Korra was the one who actually did. Asami was tending to her when Mako broke out of the shocked, stupor-resembling haze he was in.

"What? What did you just say?" The gloves came off. The firebending came out.

It took a good twenty minutes to subdue Mako and reawaken Korra, but it all proved worth it. Iroh had stood up to face Mako originally, but Bolin had stepped in front of him, earthbending at the ready. Seeing how prepared Bolin was to defend his significant other, Mako snuffed his fire. The fire of his anger was not included in that transaction, though. He yelled loudly and he yelled quickly, incoherently at first, but gaining clarity slowly. And, it seemed, with clarity he gained peace of mind, and later, tranquility. The time left was used to get Korra into a conscious state.

"So you're not kidding?" she asked for about the fifth time. Iroh and Bolin replied in the negative, yet again. Iroh didn't know what she expected, really. The answer wasn't going to change if she asked multiple times. All in all, that was the most aggravating part of the whole process. The new Team Avatar was perfectly ready and willing to accept them and Asami even congratulated them. Mako would be a long-term project, but Iroh was planning on a long-term relationship with Bolin, so they had time. And lots of it. They weren't going to waste a second more hiding.

"Now, if you'll excuse us," Bolin said, tugging Iroh nearer to the door. "We do have a lunch date." He smiled.

"And an appointment." Iroh added.

"We're about to do to the world what we just did to you guys," Bolin explained, "Not vocally, of course.

Iroh opened the door, tossing his keys behind him and onto the coffee table. "Could the last one of you out of here lock up, please?" he asked, not waiting for a reply. They were already out the door, Pabu in tow.

"Later that day, they made it to the late edition of _the Republic Informant_. The front page of the late edition, at that. Photographs and all. But Iroh didn't mind much; neither did Bolin. At that moment, it just felt that being able to walk in the streets holding hands with the person you cared about, was worth a little scrutiny from the public.


End file.
